alexwoolfson
patreon
Chapter 2, Part 1 - Excerpt from The Reluctant Incubus
🕑 Added 2025-09-12 19:46:19 +0000 UTCYou all rock! Your kind comments for the end of Chapter One excerpt got me totally fired up. Thank you! :D
So, let's keep sharing these. If y'all keep commenting and letting me know what you think, I'll keep sharing these twice a week until launch day.
Below is the first 25% of Chapter 2. (In case you missed them, you can find the Chapter 1 excerpts here. ) Now it's time to meet Alvin's boss. I wonder what she'll be like?
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes.
If you want to see what happens next in Chapter 2, please let me know in the comments!
Chapter 2, Part 1
My newfound enthusiasm for danger and adventure doesn’t last long. By the time I ride the rickety brass elevator up to Ms. Stryker’s small eleventh-floor suite in the Aston Building, I’m flashing through all the ways I could wind up shot or worse if this little heist goes pear-shaped. It doesn’t help that my butt crack still stings from when the elf yanked me by the waistband of my pants against the wall. God-tier wedgies—apparently just a taste of what life is like when you get mixed up with the fair folk.
But there’s no point in dwelling. If I don’t comply, the fae Obligation will make me horrifically sick. Supposedly, over time, it can even kill you. I have to steal that watch tonight whether I like it or not.
I unlock the door to the cramped reception area of Ms. Stryker’s two-room office and scoot behind the cheap particleboard desk she got me last month. Right now what I need is distraction, so I force myself to focus on the little work Stryker actually lets me do. First, there’s the thin stack of envelopes I grabbed from the old-school copper mailbox in the building’s 1930s art-deco ground-floor lobby. I shuffle through each one, visually scanning for curses. (It’s the only real magical thing I can do.) All of it is junk without a trace of spellcraft, so they go straight into the trash. Then I power up the office’s ancient beige PC, hit play on the landline’s cassette-tape answering machine, and log the night’s messages in a Word 97 doc. (It can’t run anything newer. Stryker isn’t much for tech or for buying new things to make my job easier. The computer was gathering dust in a corner. I was lucky to get the secondhand furniture.)
The messages are mostly spam and crank calls, but one is from a previous client whose family in the country had been threatened by a feral werewolf pack. He wants a meeting sometime next week. He doesn’t say for what, but I still highlight the text in bold, copy-paste it to the top of the document, and print out the call log on her dot-matrix printer. Doing that at least feels vaguely useful.
I just get started entering the few receipts she left me into an expense report when the woman herself bursts through the door, carrying a horned demon head in a clear plastic bag. She casually tosses it on the desk in front of me, and I barely yank the printout away in time. Ms. Stryker’s dark brown skin gleams with sweat.
“Coffee…” she growls. She doesn’t even look at me as she slips off her thick black jacket and throws it over the back of the plastic “client” chair on the side of the desk opposite me. There’s a vibrant splotch of yellow blood on the collar.
She always works nights, and she always wears full motorcycle leathers on her jobs. I think it’s because it makes good armor, but I haven’t worked up the courage to ask. Of course, it also makes her look badass. (As if having runic tattoos around her throat and wrists, a shaved head, and the ability to shoot lightning from her fingertips left any doubt.)
I slip the call log onto a safe corner of the desk and quickly turn to get her the Nitro Brew when I realize I left it splattered all over the sidewalk on Larkin.
Oh, no.
I immediately leap to my feet. “Oh! God! I’m sorry, Ms. Stryker! I, uh, had it, but then, uh, stuff happened and I dropped it, and then I totally forgot! But I’ll go get you a new one right now!”
I round the table at speed when she stops me with an iron palm against my chest. Her amber eyes pin me in place like I’m a bug.
“It’s not like you to forget things, Alvin. What ‘stuff’ happened?”
[END OF EXCERPT]
So what do you think?
What's your impression of Ms. Stryker so far? How do you think she'll react when she finds out what Alvin's really up to?
Do you think he should tell her the truth, or is keeping it secret the smart move?
I'd love to hear your thoughts below!
Read the whole book for free!
Both books from Alvin Alonso's Secret Files will be released simultaneously on November 10 on Amazon which will give readers the complete duet to binge right away.
And if you're interested in reading the full story and leaving a review on Amazon for launch day, I still have advance review copies available through two options:
For immediate reading: Get advance copies on NetGalley here (limited spots available—but I've extended it for another 3 weeks with this new link): https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/716233
For polished final versions: If you'd prefer to review the publication-ready editions available in October, you can join my official ARC Team here: https://alexwoolfson.com/arc-sign-up
Just want to pre-order the the final version of the duology? Click here: https://amzn.to/4mn2J42
Do you want more?
Let me know in the comments and, if folks continue to be interested, I'll post up the next excerpt from Chapter 2!
Comments
Alex Woolfson
Thank you, Bill!
william clapie
No comments on this one, well maybe. A born non-wannabe demon is bossed by a leather clad bad-ass female? Enjoy torture much my boy? Love it Alex
Alex Woolfson
Glad you like that little bit of worldbuilding, Lee. (And yes—no one-dimensional characters on MY watch! :D) Thank you!
Lee Rawitscher
I really love the way "Obligation" functions like a geas. It's a very cool concept that I always enjoyed in RPGs. As for Ms. Stryker - very interesting character. Just when I thought she was going to be a one-dimensional trope, she seems to show concern for Alvin. Can't wait to read the next section.
